One of the most remarkable nights Edward ever spent, was under a gravestone in the churchyard of Boyndie. The church of this parish was at one time situated in the midst of the churchyard; but as it was found inconvenient, and at a considerable distance from the bulk of the parishioners, it was removed inland, leaving but a gable end of the old church standing. The churchyard, however, is still used as a burying-place. It stands on a high piece of ground overlooking the sea, about two miles west of Banff. In clear days, the bold, rugged, precipitous coast is to be seen, extending eastward as far as Crovie Head. But the night of which we speak was very dark; the sky was overhung with rolling clouds; the sea was moaning along the shore. Edward expected a wild night, as he had seen the storm brewing before he left home. Nevertheless he went out as usual.
A TERRIBLE NIGHT.
He had always regarded a thunderstorm as one of the grandest sights. He rejoiced in the warring of the elements by day, and also by night when the inhabitants of the earth were wrapped in sleep. As he approached old Boyndie, the storm burst. The clouds were ripped open, and the zigzag lightning threw a sudden flood of light over land and sea. Torrents of rain followed, in the midst of which Edward ran into the churchyard and took shelter under a flat tombstone supported by four low pillars. There was just room enough for him to lie down at full length. The storm was not yet at its height. The thunder pealed and crashed and rolled along the heavens, as if the universe were about to be torn asunder, and the mighty fragments hurled out into infinity. It became louder and louder—nearer and nearer. The lightning flashed in red and yellowish fiery streams; each flash leaving behind it a suffocating sulphurous odour. Then followed torrents of rain and hail and lumps of ice.
After the thunderstorm, the wind began,—lightly at first, but, increasing rapidly, it soon blew a hurricane. The sea rose, and lashed its waves furiously along the coast. Although Edward had entertained no fear of the thunder, he now began to fear lest the tremendous fury of the wind would blow down the rickety gable end of the old church of Boyndie; in which case it would have fallen upon the tombstone, under which he lay.
BOYNDIE CHURCHYARD.
A MYSTERY SOLVED.
The hurricane lasted for about an hour, after which the wind fell. Midnight was long past, and morning was approaching. Before leaving the tombstone, Edward endeavoured to obtain a few minutes’ sleep. He had just begun to doze, when he was awakened by a weird and unearthly moaning. He listened. The moaning became a stifled scream. The noise grew louder and louder, until it rose into the highest pitch of howling. What could it be? He was in the home of the dead! Was it a ghost? Never! His mind revolted from the wretched superstition. He looked out to see what it could be; when something light in colour dashed past like a flash, closely followed by another and a darker object. After the screaming had ceased, Edward again composed himself to sleep, when he was wakened up by a sudden rush over his legs. He looked up. The mystery was solved! Two cats—a light and a dark one—had been merely caterwauling in the graveyard, and making night hideous according to their usual custom.
By this time the day was beginning to break, and Edward prepared to leave his resting-place and resume his labours. He felt very stiff as he crept from under the tombstone, where he had been lying in a cramped position. He was both cold and wet; but his stiffness soon wore off; and after some smart running in the open air, his joints became a little more flexible; and, shortly after, he returned home.
MOTH-HUNTING.